


Days Like Any Other

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, B-Gris Dropping Siq Beats, Domestic Fluff, Elinor Lives, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Food Kink, Grinding, Kitchen Sex, Lap dancing, Pancakes, Smut, Underwear Kink, light kink, probs idk anymore tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9105682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: They fell into easy and luxurious domesticity when they started the rest of their lives together. As time wears on they only feel more comfortable with each other and being themselves.Also known as the Bernie in Grey Boxers Collection.





	1. Weekends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena finds Bernie dancing around the kitchen making her breakfast: white shirt, grey boxers, no shoes. The image is so darling Serena cannot help but get carried away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the secret gift exchange hosted by @fyeahberena over on tumblr.com
> 
> For @rachelcazalet who said they'd like to receive "anything!" This fic is definitely...something...so I hope you like it :)

Bernie wakes with the warmth of sun rays on her face, beams peeking in through a patch in the curtains where the two halves have come apart. Probably parted around the same time she pinned Serena to the wall and snogged her senseless the night before. Bernie smiles at the memory and wiggles herself awake, the pillow warm and soft under her cheek as she stirs. She can hear birds chirping in the garden and her body is one delicious ache. She cracks one eyelid and looks across the pillow to see a still sleeping Serena: pillow lines etched onto her face. She is all warm and soft and peaceful and this image of Serena makes Bernie’s stomach flip flop: she still cannot quiet believe this is all real. 

She cannot help smiling and shuffles closer, the mattress dipping slightly as she lies in the middle of the bed. Serena snuffles slightly in her sleep and Bernie wonders what she is dreaming about. She leans over to place a kiss on Serena’s lips: featherlight and gentle, barely firm enough to feel. It is not enough to wake her lover, that is the last thing Bernie wants to do: wants to watch peaceful serene Serena sleep for all eternity. However even an unconscious Serena knows when Bernie is worshipping her with her eyes and she wakes up anyway.

“Good morning,” Serena says, voice thick with sleep. She smiles, small and bright, before closing her eyes again. Bernie leans over to kiss her cheek, kiss her nose, kiss her lips again. Serena response lazily, all lips and no tongue as she keeps her eyes closed. Serena breaks the kiss and snuggles back into the bed. “Just five more minutes,” she whines.

“Of course darling, take all the time you want.”

Bernie pulls herself out of bed, careful not to disrupt Serena’s cocoon. Pulls a pair of boxers out of the dresser and slides into them; eyes a shirt rumpled on the floor, discarded during last night’s activities. Throws it on: tired fingers barely managing to catch a single button. Bernie takes one last look at the woman in bed, drinking in the image of Serena warm and cozy and rugged up. Tears her eyes away and pads towards the kitchen.

*

Serena wakes some time later, hair wild and sleep caked in her eyes. She reaches over to Bernie’s side of the bed and finds its empty but still warm. She wonders where her lover is, then hears a clang of metal on metal and a cuss coming from the kitchen. Serena gets out of bed and pulls a dressing gown over her exposed shoulders, the fuzz of the robe soothing on her bare skin. She follows the sounds in the direction of the kitchen, noises which get louder with each passing step.

Serena turns the corner into her kitchen only to be greeted by the sight of Bernie, clad in a white shirt and little else, dancing around the kitchen and humming to herself. Bernie seems oblivious to Serena’s presence so she leans against the doorframe and watches her lover sashaying around the kitchen. She appears to be making pancakes.

Serena watches sure wrists crack open eggs. Serena watches taunt biceps flex as Bernie stirs the mixture, slender fingers tight on the whisk. Serena watches a white shirt ride up to reveal grey trunks as Bernie pours batter into a pan. Serena watches calves flex as Bernie rocks back on her feet as she flips pancakes: once, twice, thrice to be sure, before shaking them out onto a plate. After Bernie pours out the last of the mixture Serena watches batter stained hands dump dirty dishes straight into the sink. Well, she thinks to herself, nobody is perfect. Serena smiles despite herself.

Serena walks across the kitchen, wrapping arms around Bernie’s middle and dropping a kiss to the base of her neck. Bernie squeaks slightly - she really had been in another world all this time - before melting in Serena arms. Serena can feel Bernie trying to calm herself with a shuddered breath, that one spot really does make her come undone, before craning her neck around to look at Serena.

“Morning sleepyhead,” she smiles, eyes shining. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“You still can, it just means we have to go back to bed.” Her words might be innocent but the smirk on her face is anything but. Bernie knows what that tones means and a shiver runs up her spine.

Bernie turns away and flips the now cooked pancake one last time before sliding it onto the top of the stack. Flicks off the heat and leaves the pan on the stove top. Puts a plate on top of the stack to keep it warm.

She turns in Serena arms, winds her fingers in the short locks behind Serena’s ears and pulls her in for a kiss: open mouthed and warm. Serena returns the kiss with vigour. Her fingers grip at Bernie’s back as her knees go weak. The kiss goes on and on and on and Serena forgets how to breath forgets how to stand forgets she has legs. Forgets everything in the world save the feeling of Bernie’s lips on her: firm and searing and forever. They break apart, eventually, checks flushed and short of breath. Bernie smiles, eyes gleaming.

“There’s nothing I’d love more.”

*

Serena practically runs up the stairs and throws herself onto the bed with smile. Bernie is close behind, plate of pancakes in hand. She places them on the bedside table before jumping onto the bed. She lands beside Serena with a thump and Serena shrieks as the force bounces her into the air.

Serena laughs as she repositions herself on the bed, dressing gown falling open as she scoots up towards the pillows. Bernie pounces on her, swallowing her giggles with a kiss as she pins her to mattress. Serena slides out of her robe and pulls at the single button keeping Bernie shirt together: pushes their bodies flush against one another and relishes the warmth and softness of Bernie’s skin.

They roll around the bed kissing while their breakfast goes cold. They kiss for what feels like eternity, as the sun sinks lower in the sky on the other side of their semi-closed curtains. They kiss, lost in each other’s mouth. They kiss and kiss and kiss until kissing is not enough anymore.

Light touches take on a new firmness and breathing becomes a bit haggard. They shift and roll and moan as their legs tangle together. Bernie dips her head to slide her tongue over a nipple and Serena arches up into her mouth with a strangled moan. She feels Bernie hum into her chest, cocky smile against her breast and Serena flips them onto their sides. Her legs fall open as Bernie’s fingers trail down her stomach and she slides a hand into Bernie’s boxers.

Their touches are soft and gentle and stroking: stark contrast to the hard and fast and pummeling of the night before. A night that turned to early morning and left them sore and swollen and sated. They are mindful of the marks that linger from yesterday: Bernie avoids the fingertip bruises blossoming on Serena’s hips and Serena is careful of the nail scratches on Bernie’s shoulder. Their faces are barely inches apart and they pant against each other lips as they slide and curl and touch.

Bernie’s fingers are strong and sure between her legs and she is so slick and sensitive. Serena comes with a cry and her face falls into golden curls. She laughs into Bernie’s throat as Bernie reclaims her hand: joyous and content.

Serena’s hand stops moving and retreats. Bernie whimpers at the loss until Serena presses wet fingers to her lips and slides down the bed. Sinks to her knees as Bernie licks at Serena’s fingertip; rolls onto her back and raises her hips when Serena tugs at her pants. Throws a leg over her shoulder and Serena dives face first into Bernie. Buries herself deep and drinks her fill over and over and over until both Bernie and the sheets are a shuddering mess and the ache in Serena’s core is too much to bear.

She crawls up Bernie’s body, eyes dark and predatory. Slides herself up Bernie’s long long legs before settling on her thigh. Bernie gasps as the sensation of Serena against her skin: warm and wet and wanting. Her hands find Serena’s hips, desperate for another point of contact. Serena grabs her hands and shakes her head, leans forward to place them above Bernie’s head and hold them there.

“It that okay?” Serena asks.

*

“It’s perfect,” Bernie moans.

Bernie bends at the knees and watches Serena. Watches as Serena rubs against her: forehead crinkled in concentration and her lips pressed shut. Watches as Serena grinds down on her: breasts brushing against her chest and shuddered breaths. Watches as Serena fucks herself on her thigh: hips snapping back and forward and every third thrust Serena’s knee brushes against Bernie’s core. She presses firm against Serena: suddenly so desperate for anything, _everything_ , this woman wants to show her, wants to give her, wants to take from her.

Serena is shaking now: close, so close, so very close that Bernie can feel it building against the muscles of her thighs. Their eye meet, impossibly bright and impossibly brown and impossibly wide, and Bernie _needs_ to see Serena come. Tells her as much and then Serena is coming. Cries and moans and whimpers tear themselves from her throat as she spasms long and hard and blinding and it takes Bernie’s breath away. 

Serena’s grip on Bernie’s wrists is so tight and Serena is so hot and wet against Bernie’s skin and Bernie’s lungs are too small. It is all too much and Bernie is coming: chest heaving and hips rolling as her feet curl and her back arches. Bernie is thrashing: against the hands holding her still. Bernie is falling: ears screaming and sight flicked with grey and then it is all black.

Bernie comes too with Serena lying by her side, gently stroking the scar carved down Bernie’s chest.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” She kisses her cheek. “Guess things got a bit too intense for you,” Serena teases.

Bernie blinks, trying to think through the fog at the front of her mind. “Did I…um…did you…?”

“Did the sight of me coming make you come so hard you blacked out?” Serena “Cat that ate the canary and butter would never melt in her mouth” Campbell asks. “I think that would be a yes,” she smirks, so infinitely pleased with herself.

Bernie manages a small smile, blinks, looks away: embarrassed and shutting down. Serena notices.

“No, darling, don’t go,” she whispers. “Come back to me,” she pleads. “It was gorgeous,” kissing her cheek. “You’re gorgeous,” kissing her nose. “It was amazing,” kissing her lips. Bernie’s eyes well up despite herself.

“This weekend has been marvellous,” Serena says. “You even brought me breakfast in bed,” eyeing the stack of pancakes still sitting on the bedside table.

“But we never even ate it!”

“They’re probably still good cold,” Serena says reasonably. “And maple syrup makes everything delicious.”

“You’re right,” Bernie says as she tries to sit up. “I’ll go grab some.”

“No, you stay right there,” Serena pushes her back onto the bed with a firm hand. “Right there,” she repeats with a glint in her eyes that Bernie cannot argue with as Serena leaves the room.

She lies flat on the bed, gently wiggling her toes to make sure she can still move her leg. Flexes her feet for the same reason, then bends her knees. Technically she hasn’t actually moved, Bernie thinks, so Serena won’t know the difference. Thankfully it all seems to be in working order, albeit everything is thoroughly sticky.

Serena comes back with a bottle of maple syrup, a tub of ice cream, and a single spoon. As if on cue Bernie’s stomach grumbles.

“Guess someone worked up an appetite,” Serena quips. Bernie nods, raises up on her elbows. Serena clambers onto the bed, dropping the supplies onto the blanket. She straddles Bernie, pushing her back onto the bed once more. “Me, Bernie. I meant me. I’m the hungry one.”

Serena’s tone is completely serious, her face absolutely deadpan, and her body extremely naked. The image is so beautiful and bizarre that Bernie cannot help laughing: laughs and laughs and laughs until tears are streaming down her face and she can barely breath. Does stop breathing when she feels something cold and solid and light on her skin.

Bernie looks down to the sight of Serena bending at the hip to lick ice cream off her stomach. Her eyes bulge and she cannot look away. Serena looks at Bernie and smiles: maintains eye contact as she reaches for the syrup bottle, maintains eye contact as she pours some on top of the ice cream residue, maintains eye contact as she slinks down the bed and licks Bernie’s stomach clean.

Serena sits back, still looking at Bernie.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this bed for the rest of the day.” Flicks her tongue out over her lips, catches a stray drop of syrup. “I’ve got plans for you.”

Bernie gulps, not sure her body can handle much more than it already has.

“I meant sleeping, silly. I want to hold you.”

Bernie heart bursts a little.

“Once we’ve eaten, I really am famished. Pass me a pancake would you, they do look delicious”

Bernie heart bursts a lot.

“Whatever you want,” she says as she passes over breakfast. “Anything at all.”


	2. Late Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie does not own knickers. She owns pants, of course, but nothing that Serena would actually call knickers. Because Bernie's underwear drawer comprises completely of boxers. 
> 
> It makes Serena curious. So curious that, when she passes through the men’s section of M&S one day and sees a sale sign above a stack of plainly coloured boxers, she buys herself a pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to @christmascactus for helping me work through a moment of stagnation. You're a gem :)
> 
> This series has basically become an ode to Bernie in grey boxers. I have feelings about Bernie in grey boxers. 
> 
> In the interests of clarity, when I say boxers/trunks I'm talking about the tight type of underwear designed w penises in mind that they generally market at cis blokes. They're also called boxer briefs in my neck of the woods. I'm a new convert and Serena is basically me.

Bernie does not own knickers. She owns pants, of course, but nothing that Serena would actually call knickers. She barely notices it at first, when she is newly granted the privilege of seeing under Bernie’s clothes. She is more interested in stripping her further — to uncover damp blonde curls and red swollen lips to add to the expanses of pale white skin and wiry taunt muscles already on display for Serena starving greedy eyes — than she is cataloging Bernie’s collection of underwear.

But as the weeks wear on and Serena’s lust sates itself enough to slow down she starts to notice. It still takes her months to properly realise that Bernie's underwear drawer comprises completely of boxers. There is nothing lace, nothing fancy, nothing small or tight and choking. There are a few patterned prints but for the most part it is all block colours with a different coloured waistband. Everything is cotton, everything is simple, everything is soft, everything is big and stretching and breathable.

Serena first assumption is it has something to do with military issue clothing; that cotton is the only state sanctioned material there is and heavy duty field fatigues require equally sensible underclothes. Serena thinks maybe it is a habit Bernie learnt years ago. A habit like the late to sleep and early to rise schedule Bernie keeps about bedtimes, or the miles long jog she goes on every other day.   

Even if it is just an old habit, this preference for the plainest and more sensible underwear in existence, it makes Serena curious. Not that she would ever ask, why Bernie prefers the pants that she does: some topics of conversation are so unimportant that it seems silly to bring them up in the first place. And she was never once been interested in trucks when blokes wore them so why should Bernie wearing them make any difference what so ever? (The difference is, of course, Bernie herself. Somewhere deep down Serena knows the difference is always Bernie).

Nevertheless she is curious. Curious about pants. So curious that, when she passes through the men’s section of M&S one day and sees a sale sign above a stack of plainly coloured boxers, she buys herself a pair. Has to ferret around for a while to find a pair of extra smalls, but her luck wins out in the end. She buys nothing else: scrunches them in her fist the whole way to the check out and slips them into her coat pocket. No point taking up a whole bag with a single item.

Serena takes them home, washing them along with the load she had waiting — the load she had been putting off for two days — and throws them in the dryer. She get distracted by dinner and thinks no more about it. Until much later than night, after dinner and dessert and television, when Jason has gone to bed and Bernie gone to clean the kitchen and Serena remembers she has chore to do as well.

She pulls the load out of the dryer, dumping the pile in the clothes basket none too delicately. She spots them, tangled up in her blouses and trousers: warm cotton on her palm as she adds them to the laundry bucket.

She hauls the basket onto her hips and carries it up through the house; hears Bernie potting about in the kitchen as she walk by. Walks up the stairs; hears nothing by silence coming from Jason’s dark room. Drops the wicker patterned plastic on her bed and picks out the trunks. Leaves the rest of the load to sort out later. Strips off her trousers and knickers. Steps into the leg holes and slips them on.

Serena marvels at the soft cotton snug on her rump and the tops of her thighs: her bikini line is the happiest it has ever been. She flicks the waist band gripping her hips as she turns to look at herself in the full length mirror. They almost look like shorts except for the seam-lines in the front: they feel like best pair of shorts Serena has ever worn. Serena realises the arse she has been living with for over fifty years has been missing out.

She all but runs down the stairs and almost trips over her own feet in the excitement. She races through the empty living room and scampers towards the kitchen. Finds Bernie standing at the sink with her back to the doorway and Serena.

If it were any other night Serena would take a few moments to stare at Bernie staring out the window. Would take a few moments to appreciate Bernie from the back. Would take a few moments to enjoy the way the plaid printed shirt falls on Bernie’s torso, the low hem of the shirt underlining the curve of her arse. She would take a few more moments to enjoy the sinfully tight jeans on Bernie's long long legs. Expect it is not any other night, and Serena does not pause.

“Why did you never tell me these are the comfiest things in the world?!” Serena almost shouts across the room.

Bernie starts at Serena’s not quite yell and drops something in the sink. She turns away from the window and towards Serena. She still has a mug in her hand and put it on the steel of the sink. She looks are Serena: notices the absolute delight on her face right away. The absence of trousers takes a little longer, but after a few beats with confusion etched on her face, she notices the green cotton high on Serena’s thighs poking out from her blouse. It clicks and Bernie smiles.

“Well, yes,” Bernie says, slouching back to relax against the sink. “Why do you think I wear them all the time?”

“I don’t know really I though it was an army thing or maybe you were just boring but that’s not it all all. They’re great! They’re so soft and comfy and snug!”

Serena pats at her hips as she talks and her face shines with bright with delight. She looks up at Bernie with so much glee that Bernie cannot help smiling wide.She looks down at her pants again and her eyes follows her hands pawing at the material against her skin.

Bernie watches as Serena slides her hands over her hips and her thighs and her arse. Bernie sucks in a breath and her mood changes completely. Her wide smiles turns predator and she slowly stalks forward across the kitchen to stand in front of Serena.

Serna looks up again and sees the look on Bernie’s face. Her smiles falls: her eyes wide and dark. Her hands freeze: one at the top of her hip and the other at the top of her thigh. A tongue darts out to wet her lips.

Bernie bends at the hips to lean forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Serena’s mouth. Bernie captures Serena’s bottom lip btween he own: lightly scrapping over it with her teeth as she draws back a hairsbreadth. Bernie takes another step forward, bring their feet together and their chests brush. Brings her hand to the crux of Serena’s thighs and Serena hums deep in her throat. Bernie brushes her lips against Serena’s ear and her mouth falls open.

“And they are marvellously easy access,” Bernie whispers, slipping her hand through the cuts in the fabric and running her fingers through course curls. Serena hums at the tug as Bernie pushes and pulls at her bush and rests her hand on Bernie’s shoulder.

Serena angles her face up for a kiss and slides her arms all the way around Bernie’s shoulders. Their alignment changes and Bernie takings the opportunity to slip her fingers lower and they glide through warm soft folds. Feels them grow slicker as she strokes. Serena deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue into Bernie’s mouth and pressing their bodies together harder.

Bernie reaches round to wrap as arm around Serena’s waist: holds her steady as she starts to bend backwards at the hips slightly. Serena clings to her shoulders and tries to spread her legs. Bernie bends her knees slightly and sinks two fingers into Serena’s cunt. Bernie swallow the moans that fall from Serena’s mouth with a kiss.

Serena quivers in Bernie’s arms, thighs quaking and knees jelly, clinging to Bernie’s shoulders. Bernie works her quickly and Serena comes in her pants in the kitchen with the clock ticking close to midnight.

Bernie pulls back, removes her hand the same way it went in, brings her fingers to mouth and sucks them clean. Hum at the taste and smirks at Serena. The glint in her eyes does nothing to help Serena get her breath back, chest heaving as she tries to fill her lungs again. She still needs to hold Bernie to stay upright.

“You’ve ruined my new pants, Bernie,” Serena manages a stern voice, despite the fact that her vision is still blurry.

“Well, you’ll just have buy more then, shan’t you,” Bernie says reasonably. “So I can ruin those too.”

Serena swots are her lightly and smiles.

“I wonder how many angles you can manage without taking these off?” Serena wonders out loud.

Bernie take her meaning and grins. Takes Serena’s hand and they all but run up the stairs, switching the lights off as they race towards the bedroom. They shut the door gently before Serena launches at Bernie and presses her into the wood. Fists at her collar, bodies flush, and kisses her deep and frantic. Slides her tongue over Bernie’s and feels the moaned response all the way down her spine.

Bernie plays with the waistband of Serena’s pants, runs her thumbs over the curve of her hipbone above the material. Reaches around to palm the swell of Serena’s arse and pulls her up on her tip toes. Walks Serenabackwards to the bed and barely break lip contact as they fall down onto the mattress. They bounce on the bed and giggle against one another’s lips.

They kiss with fervour: long and slow and burning. Soft moans and quiet pants fill the room as their hands gently skim each other’s curves. Their legs tangle, Bernie’s knee working itself between Serena’s, and the rasp of denim on her bare legs reminds Serena thatBernie is still very much fully clothed.

Serena huffs and takes Bernie by surprise: flips her on to her back and undoes her buttons and pushes off the shirt. Reaches round to flick the clasp of her bra. Bernie arches up, pushing her breasts against Serena’s, and extends her neck. Serena leans forward to scrap her teeth along Bernie’s jugular, nipping at the pulse point and prompting a breathy sigh, before clambering off the bed.

She yanks at the cuff of Bernie’s jeans, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Bernie sits up on her elbows as Serena takes off her blouse: watches as Serena reaches down and unzips her jeans. Raises her hips as Serena pulls them down to find grey boxes underneath. Serena smirks as she peels the jeans off completely.

She plants Bernie’s feet on the ground, stands up, and beckons Bernie to sit up. She straddles Bernie’s leg and presses her core to the toned muscles of Bernie’s thigh: double layering of her pants thick between her flesh and Bernie’s. Bernie’s hands fall to her hips and nuzzles as Serena’s chest, mouths at a nipple through her bra. Kisses up her neck and nuzzles under her ear. Serena reaches between them and slips a hand into Bernie’s pants. 

“It’s like a pocket,” she mumbles against Bernie’s neck.

Bernie laughs before sucking in a breath as Serena parts her folds and drags a finger over her cunt. Bernie moves her foot, spreading her legs wider and opening herself up. Serena sinks in three fingers and Bernie moans deep in her throat. Her grip on Serena’s hips tightens as she stretches around Serena’s knuckles.

Serena starts rocking on Bernie’s thigh and her other hand winds itself in Bernie’s hair and tugs. Bernie arches her back with a strangled cry and pushes herself deeper onto Serena. Serena’s knee shifts forward an inch or so and reinforces her thrusts as she works in and out of Bernie: wet curls tickling her hand and cotton material hugging her wrist.

Bernie is so hot around her fingers and so wet against her palm and part of Serena wishes she could see her hand in Bernie. Wishes she could see Bernie red and swollen and clenching. Part of Serena wishes she could see but all of Serena needs to feel, to feel Bernie come: come around her fingers and over her hand.

Serena pushes harder and deeper as she gyrates on Bernie’s thigh in time with her thrusts. Leans forward to suck on a earlobe and runs her nails over Bernie’s scalp. Tangles in her hair and pulls, hard and backward, as Serena presses her whole body forward; pushing Bernie down on the mattress.

The angle changes and Bernie does not have a chance to adjust before she is coming. She breaks apart on Serena’s sure fingers: soaking Serena’s hand and drenching her own pants as she gasps and keens and quivers.

Serena does not let up as Bernie pants her way through the waves. Presses her thumb to Bernie’s clit and works her back up into frenzy. Bernie comes again, almost silent: eyes scrunched together tight as she clenches around Serena’s still moving hand. Serena finally slows to a still when the fluttering around her knuckles subsides.

Serena pulls her fingers out of Bernie’s cunt and her boxers. Rolls off Bernie to lay down beside her. Rests her damp hand on the outside of the material to cup Bernie: closes her eyes and runs her fingers over swollen lips hidden in cotton. Hears Bernie hums at the massage and feels herself start to drift off.

She thinks Bernie is doing the same, relaxing next to her, until she feels the mattress shift and thumbs hook under the band of her pants. Serena feels her trunks drawn over her arse and down her legs and off her body. Cracks an eyelid opens and sees Bernie smirking up at her from between her legs.

Serena vaguely remembers something them about testing angles as Bernie kisses hot and dirty up Serena’s thighs. But as Bernie’s tongue licks her clean and filthy Serena thinks there is a case to be made against the easy access of boxers and in favour of the complete access of not wearing anything at all.


	3. Early Evenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena is rarely surprised by Bernie's surprises anymore, because Bernie and her constant surprises have prepared Serena to be surprised by Bernie. But even then, nothing in the world could have prepared Serena for the sight she came home to one night after a long shift: Bernie, dancing in the middle of the living room, _rapping_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (d)evolved from [this post](http://matildaswan.tumblr.com/post/158227976306/aprilshowersmayflowers-matildaswan) and then took on a life of its own
> 
> Shout out to [@aprilshowers--mayflowers](http://aprilshowers--mayflowers.tumblr.com/) for the music recs and beta-ing. Also, this all absolutely your fault. 
> 
> Internal links are to Bernie's playlist and add to the vibe of the fic so I encourage y'all to listen to them as you read :)

Bernie surprises Serena. Quite a lot, in fact. Bernie surprises her on the ward, every time she offers to let Serena lead without so much as a debate and when she immediately takes charge when she sees Serena is swamped. Surprises Serena with every invitation to assist on the more exciting surgeries that come through their doors or flagging them for Serena to run outright. Surprises Serena whenever she shuffles around their stacks of paperwork when she thinks Serena isn’t looking, taking parts of Serena piles and adding them to her own as if Serena wouldn’t notice a dozen case files disappearing from her to do list every other day.

Bernie surprises her at home, too, frequently. Surprises her with evening snuggles on the couch while they watch television with Jason. Surprises her with early morning kisses that quickly devolve to morning orgasms that leave Serena calm and content for the rest of the day, no matter how stressful the ward becomes. Surprises her with taking Jason on “spontaneous” outings on some of Serena’s days off—outings which are actually meticulously planned well ahead of time and always intended to give Serena time to herself—or convincing Elinor to join them for family lunches on other free afternoons—and spending the afternoon with Jason to give mother and daughter time together.

Bernie surprises her with things that liven up Serena’s day and the lighten the load on her shoulders. To let Serena know that she is cared for and that Bernie cares.

Serena notices every time, every single thoughtful act. But she never thanks Bernie, not with words, at least. She knows Bernie isn’t doing it for the gratitude; that making a scene would only embarrass her.

So when Bernie kisses her Serena kisses back harder. When Bernie sits on the sofa Serena quickly sidles up next to her; absently tracing shapes on Bernie’s wrist, her knee, her thigh, until Bernie pulls her in for a hug. When Bernie asks to take lead on the ward Serena lets her without argument. When Bernie starts walking a bit stiffer at work and groaning when she stands up Serena massages her back when they get home. When Bernie is rushed off her feet or running back to back surgeries and hasn’t had a chance to eat Serena leaves Bernie’s favourite pastries on her desk, pretends she bought it on a whim only to lose her sweet tooth when she arrived on the ward, and squeezes Bernie’s shoulder before leaving her to alone to eat.

Bernie never says anything either but the sparkle in her eye whenever she mumbles her gratitude tells Serena she knows what it all means. That Bernie knows she is cared for because Serena cares. And the cycle goes on: sweet subtle acts they both appreciate so very much but never need to outright acknowledge.

So Serene is rarely surprised to be surprised, now, by Bernie and her thoughtful caring surprises. Serena is generally prepared for the innumerable ways Bernie shows Serena she has her back on the ward. Generally prepared when she arrives home after finishing a shift without Bernie to find a home cooked meal and an open bottle of wine waiting for her. Is generally prepared when they get home and Bernie, having noticed the tension in Serena’s shoulders after a hard shift, takes her hand and leads her upstairs to spend the next few hours working the stress from Serena’s body.

Serena is rarely surprised by anything that Bernie does anymore and moves straight to feeling extremely pleased. Because Bernie and her constant surprises have prepared Serena to be surprised by Bernie. But nothing in the world could have prepared Serena for the sight that greeted her late one evening, coming off a long shift to what she thought would be a house empty except for Bernie by herself and enjoying the last few hours of her day off with Jason away at Alan’s for the night.

Serena unlocks the front door wearily, tired and grateful to be home. Steps into the hallway and hears the sound of [a heavy bass beat](https://youtu.be/EOpQdJ5F5TI?t=28s) floating up the hallway. She shuts the front door, not realising she does it a touch quieter than she normally would, and slips off her scarf and coat. The music goes silent as she hangs up her things and she crinkles her forehead with curiosity. The music [starts again](https://youtu.be/EOpQdJ5F5TI?t=3m4surl) as she kicks off her shoes and she pads down the hallway to the living room.

She walks in on Bernie dancing in the middle of the living room in the space normally occupied by the coffee table, the one now shoved to the side of the room and against the far wall. Serena ignores the male voice rapping out unfamiliar lyrics in favour of concentrating on Bernie; watches her as she moves her hips from side to side in time with the music and turning slowly as she sways.

Serena smiles as Bernie turns towards her. Opens her mouth to say hello but notices Bernie’s eyes are closed and she has not seen Serena yet. Serena closes her mouth and smiles wider as Bernie keeps turning until her back is to Serena again.

Serena listens as Bernie starts humming along to the words as she dances. Listens to Bernie’s off-key humming until the male voice stops for a [few beats](https://youtu.be/EOpQdJ5F5TI?t=3m40s) and then, _then_ , by some act of divine intervention, Serena listens as Bernie starts _rapping_.

Serena gapes as Bernie spits along with the now female voice: words perfect* and beat clear. Stares as Bernie inflects her tone and keeps smashing it; her head wiggling and curls swishing in time with the song. Ogles as Bernie twists her hips to the beat as the verse continues and her voice alternates between rough and light. 

God damn if it ain’t the hottest thing Serena has ever seen. God _damn_ if it ain’t the most _confusing_ thing Serena has ever seen.

Here Bernie is: a probably tone deaf woman who can’t carry a tune to save her life, who mumbles along the wrong words to songs on the radio as she drives, who can’t tell Cher from Dusty Springfield. Here Bernie is, rapping, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Bernie twirls around as she screeches and shrieks out the last line of the verse: ["I'm a motherfucking monster!"](https://youtu.be/EOpQdJ5F5TI?t=4m59s)

Bernie starts when she sees Serena standing on the other side of the couch, mouth still hanging open as wide as her eyes, but quickly recovers.

“Hello, you. Good shift?” Bernie asks as if she hasn’t just turned all of Serena's preconceived notions about her upside down. And that is saying something, given that Bernie turning Serena’s world upside down is all she has ever done. Serena often wonders if she ever knew anything about the world before Bernie came into her life.

Serena manages a nod, finally pulling her jaw up off the floor. Sees the laughter on Bernie’s face, the gleam in those impossibly brown eyes, and knows she is being teased.

“But you didn’t even know it wasn’t Dusty Springfield?!” Serena huffs out, thoroughly confused at what, exactly, has just happened.

Bernie smirks and walks toward Serena as a [new song starts](https://youtu.be/ZwDVKqAYbEw): slow rhythm and hard syncopated beats.

“Yes, well, knowing the names of singers isn’t really that high up on the list of important things when you’re on tour. So I might not know singers,” Bernie says as she takes Serena’s hands and guides her back to the dance floor Bernie has made of the living room rug. “But I do have a very good sense of rhythm,” she practically purrs in Serena’s ear as she slips her arms around Serena’s shoulders and pulls her closer.

A gentle falsetto start crooning and Serena’s hands fall to Bernie’s hips as they roll in time with the song; demonstrating that Bernie does, indeed, have a very developed sense of rhythm. Bernie leans forward and Serena meets her half way in the greedy kiss. Her grip is still sound on Bernie’s hips as they break apart.

“Welcome home,” Bernie whispers. Serena smiles as Bernie grabs her hands and spins her around. Smiles wider as Bernie pulls her close, pressing her front to Serena's back and holding Serena against her with an arm curled over her stomach.

Serena presses back hard and they grind their hips together, shifting their weight in unison with the rhythm of the song. Serena reaches up to rake her fingers thought Bernie’s hair and Bernie ghosts her lips over the side of Serena’s neck. Serena gasps and melts slightly, skin tingling and a shiver running down her spine. Lets out a breathy sigh as her head lulls back against Bernie’s collarbone; she falls borderline limp in her arms and feels Bernie smirk against her skin.

Serena sways in Bernie’s arms, endlessly relaxed, as Bernie keeps rolling their hips. Sinks into the slow rhythm and enjoys the feel of Bernie pressed against her. She expects them to keep dancing. She expects Bernie to hold her until the song ends. She does not expect Bernie to flip her around and push her backwards towards the couch but that is exactly what she does.

Serena yelps as she spins and lands with a breathy “ooph—”

She opens her mouth to let loose the protest already forming in her throat; loses her train of thought when she sees the glint in Bernie’s eye. Feels a spark ignite low in her stomach. Closes her mouth and shuffles back into the lounge, crosses her legs and makes herself comfortable.

Bernie keeps moving along to the slow thump of the song. Slowly unbuttons her shirt, one by one, never taking her eyes off Serena. Keeps holding Serena’s gaze as she lets the white oxford slip off her shoulders and fall to the ground; revealing a plain black bra and the high waist of her jeans hugging her still twisting hips.

Bernie spins slowly and feels the heat of Serena’s stare on her shoulder blades as she gently twirls back to face the couch again. Takes the few steps forward to stand directly in front of Serena and reaches out to uncross her legs. Serena lets her knees fall apart and her breath hitches as Bernie’s fingers brush along the underside of her thigh as she pulls away. 

Bernie straightens and keeps dancing, hips and head both swaying from side to side. She trails her fingers up her torso and lets her eyes flutter shut as she ruffles her own already messy hair before dropping back down to the waistband of her jeans. She opens her eyes and locks with Serena as she pops the top button. Pulls down the zipper and grins as Serena’s tongue flicks out to wet her lips.

Bernie pushes her jeans down over her hips and halfway down her thighs. Reaches out to grip the back of Serena’s thigh, kneels on the corner of the couch, and positions Serena’s foot on the crotch of her jeans. Serena straightens her leg as Bernie sinks into her lap and the jeans slips down her legs.

Bernie leans forward to push her chest into Serena’s face as the material gathers around her ankles. Draws back to press a light kiss to the corner of Serena's mouth as Serena plants her foot on the ground again and pushes her thigh up to Bernie’s core. Bernie moans gently as she slides down and away; stands up and steps out of her jeans still anchored to the floor by Serena’s foot. Stands half naked in front of Serena in her sensible black bra and boring cotton grey boxers.

Serena takes in the sight before her and bursts out laughing.

Bernie pouts. Keeps pouting as Serena laughs at the absolute ridiculousness of Bernie: woman who leaves the juice out on the bench every other day and puts the empty milk cartoon back in the fridge, who always forgets which night is bin night, and who has never in her life gotten a pop culture trivia question right. The same woman Serena comes home to find dropping word perfect hip hop lyrics in an empty house and then proceeds to gives Serena a lap dance wearing the most boring underwear in the history of humanity.

Serena calms down and beams at Bernie, face bright and shining. Bernie’s pout turn to a smile and her hips start moving again. Serena feels her heart fill to bursting point as she watches Bernie dance in front of her, burying her fingers in golden gleaming curls as her grey cotton clad hips sway in time with the beat of the bass.

Bernie makes eye contact, her hands still in her hair; pushes her messy curls forward to fall onto her face, and smirks at Serena. Serena reaches out to Bernie and beckons her closer. Bernie steps forward and falls into her lap, weight heavy and comforting on the middle of Serena’s thighs. Serena vaguely registers [the song changing](https://youtu.be/zmY8mG4_3j4) as she leans forward for a kiss. 

She reaches up to bury her hands in Bernie’s hair and Serena finds her wrists pinned to the back of the sofa around her ears instead.

“No touching,” Bernie growls against Serena’s lips, squeezing at her wrists a fraction tighter. Serena whimpers as an unexpected wave of arousal courses through her, white hot and blinding. She blinks at Bernie, face barely an inch from her own, with blurry eyes. Nods shakily.

Bernie kisses her thoroughly, grasp on her wrist loosening, before breaking away and sliding off Serena. Sways her hips as she reaches behind her to unfasten the clasp and slowly drags the straps down her arms. Serena’s hands fall to her lap as Bernie lets her bra drop to the ground. Serena swallows as she watches Bernie’s breasts bounce as she sways to the new beat; swallows down the urge to launch herself forward and run her tongue over dusty nipples. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, moans as she aches with a sudden overwhelming need to feel the heat of Bernie’s body.

Bernie’s lips pull wide in a smile so self-satisfied it’s almost cruel and steps closer again. Leans down and kisses Serena, her hands on the back of the couch and her hair tickling Serena’s cheek. Serena squirms as Bernie runs her hands over Serena’s breasts and palms them through several layers. She presses her chest into Bernie’s hand as she grip the lounge either side of her hips. Serena feels herself shake with want as her hands clench beside her; shakes so hard she knows Bernie can feel it too.

Bernie hums softly and slides her hands lower to the band of Serena’s trousers. Pulls the buttons undone and coaxes Serena’s hips up to slide them down her legs. Bernie throws the trousers over her shoulder and runs her hands over Serena’s thighs. Serena gasps and spreads her legs wide.

“Someone’s eager,” Bernie teases and Serena mewls. Slams her eyes shut as she feels Bernie slip her fingers into the waistband of her pants.

“God, yes. Bernie, please,” she begs, nodding vigorously.

She almost sobs as Bernie presses herself flush against Serena and drags her teeth over the side of Serena’s neck. Serena’s eyes open and she stares as the roof as Bernie’s brushes her lips over the shell of Serena’s ear.

“I love it when you get like this, all wanton and desperate.”

Serena definitely sob as Bernie’s hot breath tickles the side of her face. She careens forward, smashing her lips against Bernie’s mouth and writhes helplessly as Bernie kisses her: hot and searing. She whines when Bernie pulls away and slides off her lap. Moans as she watches Bernie sink to her knees in between Serena's parted legs.

Serena pushes herself forward to the edge of the couch and spreads herself wider. Serena keens as Bernie runs her tongue up towards the crux of Serena’s thigh. She groans as Bernie nuzzles her pubic hair, winding fingers through course curls and gently tugging. Gasps as Bernie nips at soft flesh before kissing it, sweet and dirty, and Serena feels Bernie grin against her inner thigh.

Serena cries out as Bernie finally buries her face in her cunt. Groans as Bernie licks along the edges of her labia; lifts her knee to hang a leg over Bernie’s shoulder. Sighs as Bernie strokes her tongue over her vulva, gentle and teasing, until Serena is writhing against her face.

Serena reaches out to fist Bernie’s hair, grip tight as she grinds down on her mouth. Bernie stills immediately and sits back on her haunches.

“No, Bernie! Don’t stop, please,” she gasps out, looking down at Bernie looking up at her: glistening chin and fire in her eyes. Serena tugs at blonde curls to pull Bernie’s head back between her legs. Bernie does not budge.

“I said no touching.”

Serena whines and unwinds her fingers from Bernie’s hair; laces them in her own short curls and clenches. Bernie nods sharply, smile smug, and dives face first back into Serena.

Serena growls as Bernie’s tongue works her with purpose, all traces of light teasing gone as she fucks Serena with her mouth. Bernie hums against her clit as she flicks and licks and sucks until Serena comes all over Bernie’s face with her hand wound white knuckle tight in her own hair.

Serena slumps back onto the couch as Bernie kisses filthy over her thigh. Sigh as Bernie slinks up her body and pushes Serena’s blouse off her shoulders. Groans as she feels a tongue run over her stomach as Bernie pulls her singlet off before settling herself on Serena’s lap. She leans forward for a kiss and Serena moans as she tastes herself on Bernie’s tongue.

“That was wonderful,” Serena breathes out between pants. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Bernie whispers as she draws Serena closer. Slips her arm around Serena to flick open the clasp of her bra and throws it over her shoulder to join the trousers. She sits back on Serena’s knees and sees the pleading in her eyes.

“Touch me,” Bernie commands in a voice that makes Serena shiver. She throws herself forward, buries her face in Bernie’s breasts. Grips at Bernie’s shoulder blades as she takes a nipple in her mouth; feels Bernie writhe in her lap and hears her gasp as Serena bites down softly.

Bernie snakes a hand up to scrape at Serena’s scalp and Serena drags her nails over Bernie’s back. Bites at Bernie’s stomach as she slips her hands into Bernie’s boxers. 

She sinks her fingers deep in Bernie and feels Bernie’s groan reverberate right through her. Serena twists and strokes her fingers as Bernie arches her back and starts bouncing in her lap. Bernie fucks herself on Serena’s fingers, Serena mouthing at her chest, until she comes with a wail.

Serena hums contentedly as she feels Bernie clench around her knuckles. Smiles as she feels Bernie relax around her fingers until she realises Bernie has not stopped moving, only slowed down. Realises Bernie is still gyrating, tight grip on Serena’s shoulders and whimpering with want.

“Serena, please,” Bernie breathes out in a tone so pleading and full of trust it makes Serena’s skin prickle and her stomach fall through the floor.

Serena hears Bernie whine as she pulls her hand away. Smiles at Bernie’s yelp as Serena unceremoniously throws her to the side and dumps her onto the couch.

She pushes Bernie flat on her back against the cushions and rips off her boxers. Enters her with three fingers and revels in Bernie’s groan, deep and throaty, and keeps hearing it rumble through Bernie as Serena pummels her. Bernie thrashes underneath her, thighs quivering and gasping for breath, until she comes again: back arching up so high Serena thinks it might break.

Bernie finally flops back onto the lounge, limp and panting and Serena peppers Bernie’s face with kisses. Rests her wet hand over the flat plane of Bernie’s stomach.

“Well, you _are_ full of surprises today,” Serena says wryly when Bernie’s breathing returns to normal.

Bernie giggles lightly and nods lazily, puppy-like smile wide on her face. Looks at Serena with huge sparkling eyes and pulls her down till their bodies are flush and kisses her soundly. Serena hums against Bernie’s lips and tunes back in to the [song now playing.](https://youtu.be/mepc6BumPLU?t=54s) Thinks—not for the first time and certainly not for the last—that she loves it when Bernie surprises her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *obviously Bernie's version of the verse does not include her dropping the n-bomb bc that would be extremely not cool.


End file.
